Them's fighting words!!

I think the above sums up Brad “Slips” Vitale more than anything I could write. 

Brad passed away this last weekend, at the startlingly young age of 44. For a minute Brad and I hosted a podcast together, but we had been acquaintances for years before that. While he was a legend in the Tekken circles, certainly one of the most innovative US players ever, I knew Brad through the early Mortal Kombat 9 days. As one of the co-hosts of the Kombat Tomb Podcast, he endeared himself to that young and fledgeling scene as a respected player who gave his stamp of approval to a game (and franchise) that didn’t really get much back in those days. I was a big fan of the podcast and it was great to eventually meet him and have a rapport – he was every bit the character you heard on the show.

I won’t pretend that Brad was a cherished and dear friend – we mostly chatted online and only met in person a handful of times. But we spoke often during those days, and what struck me the most was how Brad was the consummate veteran player. He rarely wanted to speak ill of modern titles, and was mostly interested in just playing and having a curious mind towards exploring games.

It’s one thing to hear that someone is a legend, but experiencing that is a whole different beast. His approach was not solely about optimizing the best conditions to win, but optimizing the best winning conditions for himself. He was a big fan of character loyalists who believed in what their character could do, who trusted their own opinions over that of the loudest and most confident-sounding. Anybody who played in a group setting with him probably heard the phrase “Only a REAL master could come back from this” when the odds looked dire. It’s so iconic that it even made it into Injustice: Gods Among Us as an achievement!

Although he was seemingly preternaturally talented, Brad always emphasized the work. He was extremely fond of his days growing up in the St. Louis fighting game community with legends like Unconkable, forging rivalries that pushed him from being a lowly scrub to a master. He made it a point to mention that it was a great group of people, who were about the fun more than anything else.

He warned me and others frequently about the dangers of putting too much pressure on yourself, only caring about winning at the expense of having any fun. He was skeptical of the big push for Esports for this reason, since it was common to see many young players try to hit big and flame out from the stress of having to constantly win. In his own Brad-lian way, he referred to it as becoming a Sith, like Star Wars. Star Wars and TMNT were pretty common go-to’s; I’m sure he’d be tickled pink to hear he was like Yoda or Master Splinter, even if he’d tear about it in the moment.

If all of this implies that Brad was some kind of solemn warrior poet, prone to spitting wizened sayings and having the patience of a saint, don’t misunderstand. Brad made an impression on nearly everyone he met because there were two wolves in him: Yoda-like knowledge he could impart in a way only he could, and some of the absolute dumbest, funniest things you could hear. I have a fond memory of him in the aftermath of a 5v5 team battle that took place in Brant “Pig of the Hut’s McCaskill’s hotel room at Final Round in 2012: laying in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling and contemplating life after “getting my BACK blown out” in the matches.

“Duuude, why even bother going down to the tournament? I’m fuckin’ EMO.”

“How am I supposed to win? I play Scorp, he’s a SHITTER, dude!”

“What if I just don’t get up? Nobody will care, man, I’m bodied.”

You would truly get to experience the agony and the ecstasy of fighting games with Brad. He’d get salty, have his tears, but then eventually get back to having fun, confident as if the past 10 minutes hadn’t happened. Final Round was no exception, as he needed to beat Bill “Tom Brady” Menoutis, who had just been on the winning 5v5 team, to get out of pools, and he did so in spectacular fashion, featuring two patented “Only a REAL master…” round wins.

The hilarious bellyaching followed by a performance worthy of a maestro was a Slips trademark, which got him the love of pretty much anyone who interacted with him. The sheer amount of quotable things he could throw at you rivaled any major figure like Michael “IFC_Yipes” Mendoza. I still remember having to desperately hold in a laugh on a podcast as he referred to me winning a first-to-5 money match as a “Hawaii-50”. The constant shit-stirring too, always quick to throw in a sly “I don’t know about that” whenever someone had a hot take, or “sounds fuckin’ DUMB” when the tears got to be too much. Never personal, always in good fun, just a means to provide some levity and entertainment in an environment that is normally very stressful. It didn’t matter if you never won a game or couldn’t lose, everyone had an intangible that provided some value. You could beat elite competition just by experiencing it locally and keeping an open mind. This, too, was a habit first forged in the fires of St. Louis, where the tight-knight group there had there own lingo and in-jokes inspired by Brad and others. There was a STL thread on the old Tekken Zaibatsu website that was legendary, and some of the lingo got compiled into a Myspace post when TZ started to wane. It still gets me near to tears laughing just reading it.

That it always came back to STL and his upbringing was a sign of how much Brad relished that he found people to play fighting games with. He would often tell me that there were times where he didn’t believe he had purpose, or a direction, and playing Tekken Tag Tournament with players who dug it as much as he did gave him that direction. He was forever grateful, and he didn’t like to think about what his life would be like otherwise.

No matter what, that passion for games couldn’t be extinguished, although life made it difficult. Even outside of fighting games, Brad sought to reject having a chip on his shoulder, to try and make the most out of what was laid out in front of him and not have regrets. If you have ten minutes of your day, have a listen to a segment of our podcast back from 2018, where he talks pretty candidly about a point in his life where he was sure he had wasted his time, and the bitterness that accompanied that, and how he felt it affected him for the worse. It stuck with me even back then, and now that he died young, I’d like to think it is more salient than ever.

Brad is gone now, and I don’t have the chance to ping him again and thank him for the wise words, and the fun jokes. The FGCs are no longer built off the backs of tight-knight local groups that play for fun and build their own identity, so the kind of environment that forged someone like Brad is slowly dying off as well. In many ways, it could be seen as the old guard of those early Mortal Kombat 9 days being well and truly buried, but I don’t think that’s the way he would have seen it. No, I think Brad would have given me shit for not adjusting to what was the norm, and for carrying on when I wasn’t having any fun. I guess the only thing I can do is take his words to heart, try and be the example that he was.

Thank you, Brad. Our time together and your time on this Earth was brief, but I’ll always remember it. And I’m not alone – there are so many people in these communities who spoke highly of you and are reminiscing about the good times. I hope you knew how many people you affected, and I hope now you’re in a better place.

Cowabunga.